


Beauty of a Secret

by Isabel_Stark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brother's Best Friend, F/M, best friend's sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9901631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabel_Stark/pseuds/Isabel_Stark
Summary: In which sweetheart Sansa is outcast Jon's best friend's little sister and their relationship is strictly hush hush.Inspired by Strange Love by Halsey





	1. Jon's Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first fanfiction, so please give me feedback and critiques! I want to make my writing more appealing!

Jon could still feel the weight of her lips bearing down on his when he woke up Monday morning, and it didn’t go away. He hadn’t seen Sansa since Saturday, but her presence seemed to follow him wherever he went. Ghosts of her fingers would brush stray curls from his face while the peaks of her breasts hovered tentatively above his own chest as they always did in the days following their encounters. 

It was the fifth time. The fifth time Jon Snow has very nearly slept with his best friend’s little sister. This was the little sister who had taught herself to make flower crowns while she watched Jon and Robb swordfight with sticks by the creek, who had asked for nothing but a pony for three birthdays straight, and whose bedroom was directly next to his best and only friend’s. But, this was also Sansa Stark, who was the first girl who ever told him to “bugger off”, the first girl to make Jon moan without taking any of his clothes off, and the first girl to ever deny three heartfelt promposals while staring directly at him.

She was just… Sansa. And that was why Saturday night had been the best of his life, even though he had previously been convinced that life couldn’t get better than the last time they had been together. She loved proving him wrong.

Jon thought about it now, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips as he sat on the emptiest stretch of bleachers he could find to wait out Robb’s lacrosse practice.

It had started in the Tyrell house. Sansa caught Jon’s eye as soon as he walked in, trailing dejectedly behind Robb. He could see more skin than not underneath the pastel blue party dress she was wearing. She was sitting next to a beaming Margaery and, despite the dim lighting and the pulsing music, she was clearly miserable. Miserable, that was, until her eyes flicked up and caught ahold of Jon’s. 

She found him a few minutes later in the same bathroom they had had their first kiss. Robb had been stolen away by some of his teammates while Sansa had stolen herself away. To Jon. Their eyes met again and it seemed no time at all had passed before their lips met again and there it was. The tingling, burning sensation that had shocked both of them the first time they touched in this bathroom, and every time they had touched since. 

Her hands were in his hair, tugging lightly at the base of his neck, and his hand gripped her hips as softly as he could force himself to. But beneath the thin fabric of her clearly borrowed dress, the heat of her skin was calling to him and, though he didn’t realize it, his grip was growing ever tighter. One of her hands fell to his chest and she raked her nails lightly along the exposed skin under his collarbone. Jon shivered and lifted Sansa onto the bathroom sink.

There was a knock at the door, followed by a light jiggling of the handle. It couldn’t penetrate the world Jon and Sansa had created for themselves in that moment though, and soon Jon’s fingers were dancing up and down her sides, going farther north with every stroke. His hand was hovering just above her when another knock sounded. It was louder this time, and succeeded by a drunken, profane shout. It was enough.  
Jon pulled away, both of them feeling significantly colder with the lack of contact. But the electricity between them would not fizzle. They were both breathing hard and couldn’t seem to tear their gazes away from the other’s. 

“My car?” Jon had asked, voice low and rough with need. Sansa only reached out to grip his hand in response. 

They exited the bathroom to a wide-eyed Loras, but Sansa couldn’t bring herself to care about how high her dress was hiked or how swollen her lips were. She would come to regret it later. But not that night, no. 

The car windows fogged over long before they were done. When Sansa sat next to Jon, clutched tightly by his arm and her head resting on the solid planes of his bare chest, she started to trace pictures in the fog. There was a pair of eyes first, then two. There was hair, long and straight, then there were shorter curls. There was a cigarette dangling from each of two pairs of lips and Sansa withdrew her hand, settling it low on Jon’s stomach. 

“It was my first, you know.” Sansa said dreamily, her eyes gazing lovingly upwards into Jon’s. He smiled, puzzled. They hadn’t had sex, though they had both gotten off. They had never gone all the way.

“Cigarette.” She clarified, reminding Jon of the second time they had found themselves together. It had been behind the outdoor bleachers after a light rain, and they had both gone home with their backs wet. He couldn’t smile at that, knowing he had introduced her to his own bad habit, but still found himself feeling inexplicably pleased. He had been her first. 

The cigarette in Jon’s mouth now tastes a bit sweeter than before, but he ashed it sadly when he sees Robb jogging toward him, duffel bag in hand.


	2. Sansa's Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa realizes that there's got to be a name for what she and Jon have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that this is so much shorter than the first chapter, but I hope you like it! The third chapter is in the works. Please give me feedback and critiques so that I can improve for you all!

If Sansa never heard the words “Tell me!” hissed from her best friend Margaery’s lips again, it would be too soon. Although her day had been filled with similar sentiments from people of all kinds, Sansa couldn’t fib her way out of it with Margaery. They were in the locker room alone now, just the captain and co-captain of the cheerleading team left to wrap up. 

“Come on, Sansa! This is, what, the third time someone’s seen you sneaking around with Snow?” Margaery persisted. ‘If only you knew.’ Sansa thought to herself, a picture of Jon’s kind, dark eyes flitting through her mind. Truly, Sansa was practically bursting at the seams to tell Margaery about the boy she had fallen in love with, about the boy who lit her first cigarette, about the boy who crawled the trellis beneath her window like ivy to avoid facing her mother. But Sansa couldn’t tell her best friend, not if she wanted to keep Jon’s friendship with her brother safe. It was for his own good, she kept telling herself.

"And it was my brother who saw you this time, of all people!" Margaery continued, unaware of Sansa's train of thought as it derailed on the tracks. The comment, at least, shook her out of her Jon-induced trance.

“Margaery, Loras was drunk. And probably otherwise intoxicated. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you: Nothing happened.” But Margaery wasn’t going to let this go, not if she could help it. Sansa hoisted her duffel bag onto her shoulder and headed for the locker room door, eager to get out of their conversation when she remembered that Margaery was her ride home and felt her patience drop out from under her.

The drive felt like an eternity but, when Margaery finally pulled up to the Stark house and Sansa’s heart jumped to her throat at the sight of Jon’s car at the curb, her best said something that stopped Sansa in her tracks. After all Margaery’s relentless rambling about what Sansa might have done with Jon or why she might be doing it, she finally asked a question that Sansa didn’t know the answer to. 

“What are you guys, then?” Sansa’s hand froze on the car door handle and she felt her face paling as Margaery spoke. “I mean, he’s only your brother’s best mate, but he's practically your family and you’ve known each other forever so- Sansa, are you ok?” Sansa managed a little cough to break what she realized had been a totally still stature. 

“I'm fine.” Sansa replied curtly, her voice hoarse. She got out of the car as quickly as she could but the walk to her doorstep seemed to take even longer than the car ride, ominous echoes of ‘what are we?’ cycling through her head throughout. Jon’s hands had been gripping her hips for dear life, his lips scorching her neck, his knee resting between her own to part her legs for three months now, and yet she hadn’t thought to ask herself the most basic of questions. What were they?

Yes, Jon was her older brother's best friend and yes, she had known him so long that she couldn't remember a time without him, but what was he to her? And what was she to him? If the first question didn't scare Sansa enough, the second was there to rip her chest open and take hold of her very heart.

When Sansa finally got to her room, she had all but forgotten Jon’s obvious presence in the Stark house. From the dog leash on the ground to the muddied work boots next to the door, the feel of him was everywhere, but she hadn’t seen him on her way upstairs and now hoped desperately that she wouldn’t. She set her duffel bag down in the corner of her room and, after kicking her cheer sneakers off, headed directly for the shower she shared with Robb. The door from the bathroom to his bedroom was closed and Sansa, even knowing that whoever resided within could clearly hear the shower turning on, she locked the door with one trembling hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedbacks and critiques are super appreciated!


End file.
